


Picking Flowers

by Serazimei



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Flowers, Flowers everywhere, Fluff, M/M, Mix between TV Show and Games, Roach Is Awesome, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soft Jaskier | Dandelion, Timeline What Timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:21:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22939348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serazimei/pseuds/Serazimei
Summary: It was only after a few days of travelling that Jaskier learned something very important about his new companion. The buff, intimidating, black and leather wearing Witcher constantly picked flowers. Tons of them.Being a good friend Jaskier feels it‘s his responsibility to tease Geralt about that. They bond. Somewhat. It just takes a little longer than expected.Aka: My experience with the Witcher 2 game crafted loosely into the storyline of the Netflix series. Because hey, that fucker was picking flowers from a stream in the very first episode and I think that tells us everything.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Roach
Comments: 20
Kudos: 355





	Picking Flowers

Jaskier didn‘t want to admit it, although at this point he was probably fooling himself more than Geralt with his bloody Witcher senses, but he was pretty nervous those first few days on the road. He was ecstatic, of course, who wouldn‘t be given the opportunity he had been given? Well, taken, more like. He had just tagged along and ignored Geralts grumbling. So the Witcher hadn‘t actually agreed to let him travel with him. But details.  
Anyway the point was, that he didn‘t want to muck this up. Not because of the threat of violence. Although Geralt punching him that one time had hurt like a _bitch_. But more out of fear to be abandoned in the next town or village.  
The thing was, Jaskier didn‘t really do travel companions either. Despite flourishing in spaces tightly packed with people he rather liked his independence and privacy. He always composed better when he talked out loud and tested new tunes with a hum or a tug of his fingers on his trusty lute. And he didn‘t much like to practice around others, not wanting people to hear his mistakes or know when he struggled with something. Which...left him with precious little experience when it came to travelling etiquette. Or friend etiquette, for that matter.  
Because the thing was...Jaskier didn‘t just decide to tag along because of the potential stories. Muses were a bit more than that. Always had been to the bard. And the Witcher had caught his eye immediately. He was pretty in a warrior kind of way. And he was kind under all his gruff demeanor, lack of social skills and trust issues. He was inspiring and Jaskier had fallen in love a little with him in the first few seconds of catching a glimpse of that snow white hair. He was wont to do that. Had done so a whole lot over the years. Bards are creatures of love, after all. But never with someone like Geralt. It had always been lovely ladies, easily softened by his charm. So this time he was oddly swayed to try his hardest to earn the mans friendship. Rip those walls down and see what glimmering, fragile thing was underneath it all.  
And that was were the problems arose. Jaskier was no quiet man. He was a gentle undercurrent of noise on the best days and as loud as an army striking for battle on his worst. He didn‘t do silence. Didn‘t know how to shut up. When the performance was over and he was left to his own devices, didn‘t need to impress anyone, he was even worse. And he had no clue how to get used to having someone else around to be thoughtful of for long stretches of time.  
And he knew Geralt had the same problem. Having been alone for most of his life, it probably was even more difficult for him. Especially because he hadn‘t really consented to the change.  
So the first few days were awkward, to say the least. Jaskier chattered up a storm, words born in even parts out of nervousness and habit. Sleeping arrangements were kinda decided on the fly and the bard never really knew what was expected of him until Geralt grunted for him to do this or that.  
Worst of all, Jaskier couldn‘t really get Geralt to talk. Sure he made a misguided joke here or there, on Jaskiers expense. But other than that and orders of „Stay put.“ or „Will you shut up, already?“ there was not much.  
Which was disappointing. How the fuck was he supposed to bond with his new companion, if not through conversation? It was ridiculous.

And then he caught Geralt picking flowers. It was about a week into their shared journey. They had stopped at a stream to fill up their water skins, Jaskier delighted to wash some of the sweat from his fingers and face. When he looked up again to make a comment about something he hadn‘t really thought about yet he froze. Geralt was kneeling a few meters away from him, a pretty white blossom held delicately between his fingers...sniffing it.  
Now that was odd.

And Jaskier, ever the tactful one, couldn‘t let the moment pass in peace. „I never would have pecked you to be the type to collect flowers, Geralt.“

An annoyed grunt came as an answer. The Witcher stood and put the plant into one of the satchels. And that was that. End of barely started conversation.

It happened more after that. Over and over again Geralt would stop and collect flowers, pick them off hill sides and cut them off trees, pluck them from bushes. He would always sniff them first and throw those away that didn‘t please him. Jaskier had no idea what to make of it or what kind of collection protocol the Witcher used. He only knew that on some days the satchel would overflow with colourful blossoms and other greenery, some dubious looking mushrooms thrown into the mix from time to time.  
And then over night they would disappear.

„You‘re such a flower maiden.“ Jaskier couldn‘t help but tease one sunny summer day. Roach had wandered off the road seemingly on her own and Geralt had let her. Now they stood in a field consisting mostly of dandelions. Geralt had jumped off his horse at one point, leaving her to munch on the fresh grass, while walking around. Jaskier followed him, amused whenever the big bad Witcher bend down to pluck up another pretty plant.

Geralt gave him an incredulous look. „I‘m collecting herbs.“

„Suuuure. If that‘s what you want to use as an excuse. Do you want me to weave you a flower crown out of those? I could braid some into your hair. I‘m sure you would look pre- alright alright I‘m joking!“ Jaskier squeaked as Geralt took some threatening steps in his direction, face stormy.

„Hmmm.“ the quiet hum promised murder if Jaskier dared continue to tease. And the bard was fluid enough in Witcher grunts to understand. So he backed down and rambled on about the mild summer breeze and their possible next adventures instead.

The picture of Geralt with flowers adorning his silvery hair never quite left him, though.

He understood the importance of the flowers the first time Geralt really let him tag along on a hunt. Again „really let“ was a bit of an exaggeration. Jaskier had just gotten bored and miffed about getting left behind all the time. Really how was he to write at least partly factual right ballads if he was never there with Geralt for the exciting bits?  
So he might have followed after the Witcher without the others consent. What else was new. It was a good thing he did, though. Because now he got to see his Witcher in action. And how glorious it was seeing the man draped in black and silver slashing away at the flock of harpies that was encircling him. They had come down from the cliffside of the mountain nearby. Had attacked cattle and people alike. Jaskier hid in the bushes and tried not to gag at the purgent smell of rot and bird poo. The reality of these monsters always disappointed him somewhat. In the stories he had heard growing up Harpies had been described as beautiful women with wings and talons. These things were a far cry from that. Something blue shimmered around Geralt and blasted several of the creatures back, then he dashed to plunge one of his swords into the next best target. The screeching surrounding the man was insane. Even Jaskier, who stood quite a save distance away, was already forming a headache.  
He would need to ask Geralt what kind of magic he had cast. He could always make it up, of course. Already verses were forming in his head. But Geralt always complained about it when he strayed too far from the truth.  
With another unholy screech the last of the Harpies fell, silence enveloping the dark clearing. Silence except for the heavy panting of a Witcher. His friend swayed dangerously were he stood and Jaskier made a few tentative steps forward. The noise alerted the monster hunter, swords were immediately lifted, Geralt ready to fight off whatever or whoever wanted to come at him.  
He gave a low growl when he saw Jaskier with his hands held up and a sheepish smile on his young face.

„It‘s alright. It‘s just me.“ the bard muttered, brows creasing in worry as his sight caught onto the red dripping from the Witchers flank.

Geralt grunted in response, sheathing his swords and shifting his weight, favouring the uninjured side. Jaskier hovered closer, uncertain of what to do. Hands up and nearly touching Geralts shoulder.

„Should I-“

„I‘m fine, Jaskier.“

Geralt tugged a small vial from his pouch. It swirled a murky, unhealthy looking green and when Geralt pulled the cork out with his teeth (the heathen) the smell that came out of it made Jaskier grimace. The Witcher, though, didn‘t even flinch as he downed the whole thing as if it were a shot. Jaskier watched with growing fascination as pupils widened for a few seconds. Geralt wiped the sweat from his brow and sighed.

„Come on.“

„What was that?“ Jaskier asked, trotting alongside Geralt, who already looked to be significantly less in pain.

„Healing Potion.“

Oh, he was in a sharing mood tonight. Jaskier grinned. „Oh one of your Witcher potions? I‘ve heard of them. Toxic to humans, yes?“

„Most.“ Geralt corrected with a heavy sigh, swinging himself up on Roach, who huffed.

„Where do you get them?“ Jaskier kept prodding.

„I make them Jaskier, now shut up.“

He made them...Jaskier took a bit to catch up to the Witcher. He made them. Now everything made a lot more sense.  
Well if that were the case.

The next time they stopped in the middle of the path so Geralt could collect some flowers Jaskier crouched down beside him and helped.

„What are these for?“ he broke his earlier story about one of his many escapades to ask, which earned him a slight raise of an eyebrow.

„They are herbs, bard. For the last time.“

„I know that!“ Jaskier huffed as he began picking the pretty blossoms. „What I _meant_ is what are you using them for? As in what potion.“

„Swallow.“

Jaskier gave a hum and a gesture that clearly was supposed to encourage Geralt to continue, but didn‘t. So Jaskier made a frustrated noise. „Details, dear Witcher. I need details! Unlike you I didn‘t have Alchemy in school.“

„You don‘t need to know.“ and it sounded more confused than annoyed.

„Maybe, but I _want_ to know.“ Gods conversations like these felt like trying to split a boulder with a dull knife.

„Why?“

Oh, the dolt really didn‘t understand, did he. Melitele help him. „Because I might be able to be more helpful to you, if I learn.“ the bard spelled it out to him.

Geralt huffed, turning his head to look at the poor plants currently being crushed by his hands. Maybe that had been too much feeling creeping into the talk. Jaskier cursed himself inwardly. He was a passionate man and Geralt shied away from any emotion that even hinted at being compassionate. It added to the difficulty level of the quest to earn the Witchers friendship.  
He had already given up on the rest of the conversation and thought about what he could bring up to distract and/or annoy the Witcher with next, when Geralt began explaining haltingly what the potion Swallow did.  
That night Jaskier used his journal for something else than lyrics, instead carefully writing down what little knowledge Geralt had bestowed upon him.

The next town over he bought a brand new one, which – over time – filled with information and dried up plants that he sketched onto the pages later on. At times when he wasn‘t with his Witcher. He even wrote a little ditty, so he could memorize all the ingredients and potions better. Although this one was only ever sung to himself.  
The work was well worth it when Jaskier threw Geralt the right potion for combat the next time they saw each other. He didn‘t get a thanks, but the small spark of warmth in Geralts eyes that lingered even after the whole ordeal had been over was enough to make the bard preen.  
He still sometimes teased the Witcher about flowercrowns. Sometimes, when the mood was especially light, he would even make one to wear himself, or braid some of the flowers into Roachs mane.

„Mister Grump over there could have the same treatment, you know.“ he would whisper to the mare, knowing full well Geralts sensitive hearing was able to pick up the words. „But alas, the stick up his ass prevents him. He‘d rather munch on the poor things than appreciate their beauty.“

„If you don‘t come over here and help me set up camp you‘ll be the one with a stick up his ass!“ Geralt shouted from the fireplace he was setting up.

„Never knew you were so kinky!“ Jaskier trilled, but trodding over to help nonetheless.

~~~

Six years into their somehow still shaky friendship (which Geralt _still_ vehemently denied even existed) things always instantly clicked right back into place when they met. And not all meetings were by chance now, either. Most weren‘t, Jaskier was sure. They had a sort of rhythm now. Jaskier would return to Oxenfurt for the winter and Geralt to Kaer Morhen and they would reunite sometime in spring. Jaskier had been on the road by himself for a while that day and had come to rest on a rock by the wayside. He heard Roach before he could see the Witcher. And it said a whole lot that he could determine the presence of his friend by the stride of his horse.

„Your making yourself an easy target for bandits, bard.“ was the first thing Jaskier got to hear when a mop of white hair arrived in his sight of vision.

„Or maybe I‘m trying to lure a certain Witcher to my location with my amazing musical powress.“

Ah, the smirk he got for that had first appeared around year two of their travels together and was one of the fonder expressions of his friend. „It nearly made me turn into the other direction. Had you sung I would have avoided the path entirely.“

„Rude as ever. You love my singing. You‘re standing here after all.“ Jaskier hopped from his perch and sauntered up to Roach to give her a kiss on the snout. „And even if you don‘t. Roach definitely appreciates the fine tunes I produce. Don‘t you, love?“ he cooed.

Roach snorted and bumped her head into his nose with a bit more force than neccessary, making the bard rub the now throbbing appendage.

„Serves you right. I told you not to touch the horse.“

„It‘s how she shows affection! Isn‘t her fault the only standard she has is Witcher grumpiness.“

The way Geralts facial muscles arranged themselves could almost be described as a pout. Hm, that was a new one. „I‘m not grumpy.“

„Denying it won‘t make it not true~“ Jaskier chirped after him, before running to catch up.

Geralts pout turned into a scowl that barely concealed his amusement, when Jaskier hopped sideways to keep up while braiding a lone buttercup into Roachs mane.  
This one was another of their routines. Jaskier would always meet him with some sort of flower after a lengthy period of not seeing each other. Most often it went to Roach, seldom into one of Geralts potions. But it always made the Witchers eyes shine with something that could nearly be called fondness.

~~~

It wasn‘t like he was counting the years. Okay he was definitely counting the years. What could he say? He was their chronicler! He would be a shitty one if he didn‘t keep at least a little track of their time together. His office in Oxenfurt had a row neatly stowed with worn down journals full of their adventures, all wrote down in short notes, dates, song lyrics and doodles. So because he had such a keen eye for the passing of time he of course noticed their looming ten year anniversary drawing ever nearer.  
It wasn‘t like it was such a big deal. A huge big lie he kept telling himself so he wouldn‘t get too nervous around his Witcher friend. Who could smell emotion. And who was already getting suspicious of him, if the multitude of glares and frowns thrown in his direction was anything to go by.  
The thing was. The bloody thing was this: It probably wouldn‘t be a huge deal for Geralt. And so it shouldn‘t really be a big thing for Jaskier either. It was just a friendship not a relationship. They weren‘t married. You don‘t celebrate just knowing each other. Except...Meeting Geralt really was the start of Jaskiers life. Of course he had been good before. He had studied music, he had started on his way to glory, had been fresh on his own path when he met the Witcher. But life really kicked into gear when he first saw that tangle of silver strands and the flash of those amber eyes. Jaskiers life didn‘t exactly revolve around the Witcher, but he couldn‘t deny that his fool mooded friend played a huge part in it. And that he itched to celebrate that. He would have liked to show his appreciation in some way. Preferably without making Geralt run for the hills.  
Because Geralt was a Witcher.  
And those bullheaded fools tried with all their might to not have emotions.  
At least the warm, fuzzy ones.  
Anger seemed to be fine.  
Anger and annoyance.  
Not that he had met any other Witchers to compare Geralt to.  
Maybe his Witcher was just the odd duck in the pond.  
Anyway not the point. The point…

„Jaskier.“ the gruff, frustrated voice made the bard jump and nearly let go of his lute.

„Hmmm?“ Jaskier hummed, tone getting higher the longer he stretched the M and looked up from his seat on the bed.

Geralt was standing in the doorway. This time not covered in guts and whatnot. If it wouldn‘t have been for the stiff way the Witcher held himself and the water dripping from his armor to the floor Jaskier wouldn‘t have been able to tell that the Witcher had come back from a contract.

Geralts eyes narrowed and the bastard even sniffed in his direction. „You‘re acting weird.“

Now that was surprising. Jaskier must have really been out of it, if Geralt was willing to point it out.

„It‘s nothing dear friend.“ Jaskier was quick to wave off. „Just something on my mind is all.“

„Hmm.“ that didn‘t sound convinced. Geralt still glanced at him from time to time while stripping off his wet clothes. Apparently Jaskier didn‘t act weird enough yet for Geralt to feel the need to pry further. Good.

The bard tried to ponder his dilemma a little bit less obvious after that. Not that it really helped. Once Geralt had his nose in something it was hard to get it out of there. Especially if he was curious. Damn Jaskier wished he had at least half the attention he had now on their usual adventures.

„Geralt would you please stop sniffing in my direction?“ he finally snapped after a long day of walking along a dusty road to gods only knew where. Geralt had lifted his head every five steps, scenting the air. And okay, everytime he did Jaskier could only picture him as a gaint wolf and wanted to cuddle him. Damn his self-preservation instinct really had gone to shit. Not that it had been much developed to begin with.

„You‘re smelling...sulky.“ Geralt growled out in accusation. As if it was a crime to be in a bad mood. Which, okay, the weather was nice, he was well rested and tomorrow was the day he had met this Witcher ten years ago. Fuck he was getting old.

„Maybe you are finally rubbing off on me.“ he half teased back. He was in a rather sour mood.

That even got Roach to stop. Geralt half glared, half pouted down on him. „I don‘t sulk.“

„Oh yes. I‘m sorry, I forgot. You _brood_ instead, yes? That the better word for it? Oh! Oh! There it is, that grumpy face! I knew I was missing something this whole track. Now my spirits have been renewed and on we shall go with nere a whiff more in my direction. Because I‘m _fine_ Geralt. And even if I weren‘t in top condition – which I _am_ , even if my feet are starting to hurt – I would say something if it were important, because I value communication. There‘s a thing called privacy, dear fellow.“ He stopped his word vomit and send a bright smile up, knowing full well the wall of speech he had thrown at his friend would overwhelm him. Hopefully to the point of not continuing this conversation any further. It was really a shame. The one time Geralt actually seemed interested in him and Jaskier had to derail him.

His companion huffed, which was hard to descern from the snort Roach added. „And you‘re one to talk about privacy.“

Jaskier puffed out his chest in a fake show of confidence. „I‘m the best there is about to talk about privacy!“

„The best, if you want to know how to break it.“

„Was that a joke? Am _I_ finally rubbing off on _you_? I never thought I‘d see the day! Oh children, they grow up so fast!“

A groan and a „Shut up.“ was the only warning he got before Geralt decided to lead Roach into a trod to get away from the chattering bard.  
Jaskier laughed at the display, not even speeding up a notch. He knew Geralt would slow down and let him catch up eventually. For now the distance helped him to focus on his dilemma. They would have known each other for ten years tomorrow. And Jaskier still didn‘t know how to celebrate that without spooking Geralt. Even worse, they were at least a three days march away from the next village or town. Which meant he couldn‘t even perform and maybe spend a little more on good alcohol and a bath than normal.  
His eyes wandered up the road to the horse and man in the distance. He could hear Geralt cursing. Roach must have stopped on her own accord to let the bard catch up. That made him smile. Roach had been as much a hard nut to crack as Geralt had been. At first he hadn‘t even been able to get close to her without a warning whinny and a snap in his direction. But she had softened towards him just as her owner had. Even more so. Pride not being an issue with her. He could give her pets and treats now and she even let him braid her hair, seemed to love it even. Wait. Roach must be old as balls. It was still the same horse, after all. And while that made him curious it also made him realize that he knew Roach as long as he had known Geralt. And she was much more inclined to endure his celebration without a fuss.  
Something clicked then and his mood lifted. It was so easy. He didn‘t need to celebrate with Geralt. He could give Roach something nice, get rid of the fuzzy energy that had build up over the last weeks and be done with it.

That was the plan and Jaskier stuck to it, boldly grabbing the reigns the next morning, two hours into the track, and leading Roach into a flower field. Geralt spluttered, but ultimately was too shocked to do anything but sit there and gape at the bard.

„Get off Roach Geralt. We‘re making a break here.“

The Witcher blinked slowly at him, probably fighting with himself if he should be amused or angry. In the end, he decided on a smirk that showed a few too many teeth for Jaskiers comfort. „Oh, are we?“

„Yes.“ Jaskier tugged on Geralts pant leg. A hard endevour given that these things clung to Geralts tights like a second skin.

Geralt tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowed. And – gods be damned – he sniffed again. Curiousity must have won over because the man slowly got off the horse, raising an eyebrow at him.

„What? You can go sit over there and sharpen your weapon or something. Let Roach have a day off for once. She‘s old – Oww, sorry dear I didn‘t mean it like that – and she deserves some playtime after all the shit she‘s gone through.“

„Hmm.“ there was something in those golden eyes. Something like mirth. But wonders of wonders, he didn‘t comment further, just went around the field and started to – of course – pick flowers.

Roach had shaken herself some and gave a happy whinny when Jaskier unloaded her again. As if sensing that they would stay for a while she plopped down seconds after he was done. He barely avoided getting rolled over or getting kicked in the face by one of the hooves. But he heard himself laugh nonetheless. He watched her with a fond smile for a bit and then let his gaze wander to Geralt, eyes growing even softer. Picking flowers sounded like the best idea. And so Jaskier moved about to collect some pretty blossoms himself. When he felt he had enough he returned to Roach, rummaged for the comb and started on her mane. She lay still for him, huffing occasionately, nibbling on the grass in front of her.

„That‘s it darling. Nice way to celebrate ten years of knowing each other, no?“

„Are you projecting on the horse again?“

The flower he had wanted to braid into Roachs mane fell as Jaskier flinched at the gruff voice behind him.

„No! Of course not!“

„So you don‘t want to celebrate with me, too?“

Jaskier looked up at that. Geralt somehow seemed hurt by that possibility.

„Would you want to?“

„Jas- Wait is this what all your moping has been about?“

„I wasn‘t-“

A glare.

„Fine! Yes. Maybe. A little. It‘s just- I know you don‘t like being mushy. And I know I‘m being sentimental. I‘m sorry, but our friendship means a whole lot to me. I always look forward to crossing paths with you again. And I wanted to show you that somehow. But you hate that kind of stuff, so...“

„You turned to Roach.“ Geralt huffed out an amused breath of a laugh.

„Well yes! She‘s more affectionate than you.“ As if she could understand him she choose that moment to tip over, nearly crushing his knees in the process and definately destroying all of his hard work. Jaskier grimaced. „Barely.“ He added and Roach nickered just to spite him. „I‘m not redoing all of that.“ he chasticed her. She rubbed her neck on his knees, making even more of a mess in response.

„You could braid my hair instead.“

Jaskiers brain short circuited for a moment. He could only stare wide eyed at his friend, who began to fidget even if he did not look away. Pride keeping him locked into an odd staring contest.   
„Come on.“ the Witcher prompted now sounding slightly panicked. „You‘ve wanted to do that since you first teased me about collecting herbs.“

And wasn‘t that a revelation he had to ruminate on later. „You won‘t tip over like Roach?“ he blurted the first thing that came to his mind.

And there, for the first time, was a real smile on Geralts face. It was small and tinged with amusement, but it was there and it was the most beautiful thing Jaskier had ever seen. „I won‘t. Promise.“

Hours later they sat shoulder to shoulder in front of a campfire watching the sunset. They hadn‘t moved much from their previous spot. Geralt had just gone and hunted down some rabbit during the day so they had something to eat. Jaskier stole glances at the Witchers white hair, every now and then. Delighted time and time again, when he saw the colourful petals in the intricate patterns he had woven out of the silky strands.  
It was in a moment he wasn‘t looking when he felt a rough hand gently caress his ear before retreating. Confused he felt for what had been left behind and he didn‘t need to pull it from behind his ear to know what that was. He knew that shape. A buttercup.

„Happy Anniversary.“ he heard Geralt murmur and couldn‘t help but beam.

„Thank you.“

„Don‘t make a song about it.“ Geralt warned him.

„Oh now you are giving me ideas!“

„Jaskier!“

The bard laughed, humming in response. He didn‘t say that if he ever made a song of this, he would only ever sing it to Geralt and Roach. It was their day after all.

**Author's Note:**

> That ending went a bit shippy there. Overall this Fic started out to be something much different than what it turned out to be. There were patches of Angst and Hurt/Comfort that didn't fit in there, some pages being saved to become a different Fic.
> 
> Srsly I never wrote in such a convoluted way before. But oh well, hope you liked the softness of it at least~


End file.
